My Place Is By Your Side
by Claytonator
Summary: Merlin sees Arthur in danger in an ambush and saves him the only way he knows how - with magic. But the consequences will change their lives drastically...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I wrote this to go with a fabulous piece of fanart I saw on devART by *pAgebReaTher (it was called EMRYS) and I'll probably do a second part to it, cause it doesn't quite feel finished. but anyway, here ya go! I hope you like it!**

'Merlin! On your left!'

Arthur's cries tore across the clearing, barely heard over the clashing of swords and shields, the yells of bandit and knight as they fought tooth and nail, one against the other.

Merlin span round, and saw the giant of a man swinging his sword downwards towards his skull. Ducking out of the way just in time Merlin stumbled as he reached forwards with the small knife Arthur insisted he carried 'for emergencies only', cutting the man's side. He hissed in annoyance, but it wasn't much more than a nick, and Merlin scrambled to get out of the man's way as Gwaine took over, killing the man with one blow.

There was no time for Merlin to thank Gwaine, there were too many bandits to take care of, and he was quickly involved in fighting off another. Meanwhile, Merlin scrambled out of the thick of the fighting. He wasn't armed, like the knights had been when they realised they'd been ambushed. Looking around him, he realised that somehow he'd gotten all turned around and had ended up in the centre, surrounded by the fighting on all sides.

The newly crowned King of Camelot fought ferociously, with the might of a true warrior, whilst managing to look out for his men at the same time. The harsh scrape of metal filled the air as he held off one attacker who was proving more stubborn than his fallen comrades. Merlin's eyes widened as he saw yet another enemy shadowing the king, fully intending on taking advantage of his unprotected neck.

In one perfect moment of clarity Merlin knew what would happen if he stood back and did nothing. Arthur would fall. The future of Albion would fall with him.

And he knew in his heart that this, this was the moment when Arthur discovered the truth.

He sucked in one shaky breath. This was the point of no return. There was no time to warn Arthur, no time to physically stop the attack, not time to do anything but _react_.

He flung out his hand, eyes burning with forbidden fire, throwing the man away from Arthur, crashing into a tree with impossible force.

Arthur froze, and turned his head. What he saw made his heart sicken.

Merlin's eyes glimmered with the last embers of his magic as they faded back into crystal blue and his arm fell down to his side. He met Arthur's horrified gaze.

The king's jaw set, hard and angry, as what he had seen sunk in. Acting on auto-pilot he finally overcame his enemy and continued with his fight. Just as if everything was normal.

Merlin stared at Arthur. He knew this was the calm before the storm. Arthur was getting the job done before dealing with anything else - after three years as his manservant, Merlin knew his master better than anyone. He sighed and focused on not getting killed before Arthur could do it himself. He wouldn't want to take the opportunity from him after all.

The knights were finishing their respective fights, the bandits finally being defeated once and for all. They began the clean-up job, tending to each other's wounds and collecting up the goods which had fallen off their wagon in the skirmish. Merlin stood awkwardly by the edge of the clearing, trying not to draw attention to himself, keeping out of everyone's way - especially Arthur's. He chewed on his lip, unsure of what was coming.

Arthur glanced over at the other knights. They were preoccupied (thank goodness for that) so he strode towards his manservant, his expression darkening as he went.

He didn't want to believe it. Merlin _couldn't _be a sorcerer. He just couldn't. There was no way his bumbling, clumsy, idiotic manservant could be a sorcerer. No, Arthur must have been mistaken. And yet he knew, in heart, filled with dread, that he wasn't mistaken. Merlin was using magic.

Stumbling backwards as Arthur approached Merlin found himself backed up against a tree, feeling trapped in a way he'd never experienced before. Arthur's face was blank, but his _eyes_. His blue eyes were clouded over with emotion he couldn't quite keep in check. It was a heady potion of anger, and fear, and disbelief and betrayal.

'Merlin. Your services are no longer required'

His voice was deep, low, threatening with the sheer intensity of the anger within it.

Despite knowing how useless it would be, Merlin protested, tripping over his words the way he usually tripped over the ground.

'No, sire, look, I - I can explain. Just let-'

His words were cut off by the cold press of metal against his throat. He hadn't realised the king was still armed.

'Leave. Don't ever come back. Be glad I'm allowing you your life, _sorcerer_.'

The last word was spat out at Merlin with such loathing it shocked him.

The warlock clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears, and nodded once. It was all he could trust himself with.

Arthur pushed him away, glaring at him, his eyes never once leaving the smaller man's body, as he ran away, anywhere, anywhere Arthur's anger wasn't.

_(7 years later)__  
_  
Arthur sat on the throne, only the muscle jumping in his jaw revealing the anger which coursed through his veins.

'And where was the camp found?'

His tone was as cold and demanding as it ever had been; extracting the specific knowledge he would need for his next campaign.

'Near to the Feorre mountain of Engred, sire'

Arthur nodded and pronounced the nondescript knight as dismissed. He was left alone in the huge expanse of the room once more. He no longer had advisors to guide his policy. He no longer even had personal servants, and they were fired after a few months. Nobody was allowed close to the king.

Sitting alone, as he so often did, he thought over the path his life had taken over the past decade. There had once been a time, when he loved a woman, the beautiful Guinevere. He had found a friend in a lowly manservant. He had been so full of_ hope_.

But he had learnt his lesson. Magic took away everything he had ever cared about in his life, and the rest had been ripped away anyway. First, his father's death, obviously an assassination by that old sorcerer, who Merlin had idiotically persuaded him to hire. He should never have listened to Merlin. He had lied to him the whole time, and the betrayal was too much to bear. There was no way Arthur could possibly keep a sorcerer near him, not after Uther's death, which had taught him, finally, once and for all, that magic was evil. Then he had caught Guinevere betraying him with the most dishonourable of men, the 'noble' Lancelot. He'd wasted no time in disgracing them both and exiling them from Camelot.

So now he was alone. And that was the way he wanted it. Alone was safe, alone was strong.

It hadn't been long after he had banished Merlin that he had ramped up the anti-magic campaign. His father had seemingly become soft in his later years - a mistake his son would not make. He had no qualms about using torture to find the whereabouts of other sorcerers before the executions which took place almost daily as he cleansed his lands of sorcery. He also had no qualms about persecuting the druids.

True, the druids had never caused Uther or Arthur any trouble. But they were still magic-users, and as long as they were suffered to exist in Camelot, they would give the impression that magic was acceptable. Magic was _not _acceptable under any circumstances. The people had to learn that.

He sighed, and strode out of the throne room. He had to prepare for the latest campaign.

Merlin awoke with a start. What was that? There was someone outside. There shouldn't be someone outside. Nobody ever came to this part of Engred.

He slipped out of his bed, barefoot on chill stone floor, and crept towards the entrance of the cave, staying hidden in the shadows. He'd had enough practice at it after seven years of living in hiding, always fearing that Arthur's men would search him out and slaughter him for saving the king's life.

He held his breath, listening to check if there was anyone outside, or if it had just been an animal.

There!

In the trees, barely noticeable, was the flap of a travelling cloak. It was mottled green and brown, and it would have been missed by anyone else. But it wasn't red. And that was all that mattered. Merlin stepped out of the shadows and slowly approached the camouflaged figure.

'Hello? Are you hurt? Or lost?'

The figure moved into full sight, lowering the hood from his face. He studied Merlin carefully, his eyes dark and serious, before kneeling and bowing his head to the young man.

The stranger spoke quietly, softly, with an accent Merlin couldn't quite place.

'Emrys. It is an honour to be in your presence'

Merlin started, not used to being called by his Druid name, let alone by a man he'd never seen before. Shocked into a reaction, he invited the man inside.

Merlin was living in Ballinor's cave. He'd wandered for days after the 'incident' with Arthur, and eventually found himself drawn to his father's old dwelling. He'd lived there ever since, liking how close he felt to the Dragonlord's memory there. In the long seven years he'd called it 'home' he'd let his magic run free, glad to no longer live in fear of being caught. He was at one with his magic, and with the earth, and he could feel the power flowing all around him. Even so, living off the land of Engred was a tough existence, and he'd become hardened by the dry summers and bitter winters, toiling through it all just to keep himself fed off the frustratingly infertile land. He didn't have much to call his own, but it was enough to get by on. He'd learnt how to lay traps, better than Arthur could have ever shown him, and he'd even created his own miniature armoury of weapons much more suited to him than the broadsword he'd used in Camelot. His favourite was his bow and arrow, hand carved from a tree not too far from the cave. It was pliable and strong, and the bowstring was always pulled taut and ready. His collection of arrows had taken some time to build, but after many hours spent carving by his fire at night he'd made over a hundred at least. He'd even made himself a leather cuff to protect his arm when he was hunting, after getting tired of the endless bruises that inevitably formed on his pale skin every time the bowstring 'thwacked' back. Seven years had given him plenty of time to perfect his skills - hunting, leatherwork, carving, cooking, everything - especially his magic.

The cave was mostly bare, even after having so long to add a few home comforts. There were a couple of carved chairs, a makeshift bed, a fire-pit and a few alcoves Merlin used to store what food he could keep longer than a couple days. It was the bare essentials, but Merlin had never bothered to make it anything more permanent, always expecting to be found by Arthur's men and forced to run for his life.

Merlin gestured for the Druid to sit down, pouring out two small glasses of water from his limited supply.

'How do you know my name?'

Merlin's brow was furrowed as he asked, curious but wary of his guest at the same time.

'All the Druids know your name. It is written in your magic. We followed your magic here actually, we were drawn to it.'

'Drawn to it?'

'Yes. Druids can sense when they're close to a place of power, and we'd been travelling this way when we felt it, so I offered to investigate. And found you right at home.'

'But - but this isn't a place of power. Not like the Isle of the Blessed. I'm just living in my father's old cave'

'Then your father must have felt the power of this place too.'

'Wait, you said 'we'. Who else is there?'

'You don't think I travelled alone, did you? The rest of my camp of Druids of course!'

'Th-there's more of you?'

Merlin's mind was racing, Not only had one man risked his life pilgrimaging so close to Camelot's lands, but many more had done so as well. Surely they had to know it wasn't safe for them to be close. Hell, it wasn't safe for _Merlin, _the mighty Emrys, to be anywhere near Camelot, but at least he might be able to defend himself. The Druids were notoriously against violence of any kind.

'Yes, of course there's more than just me. It isn't in the nature of Druids to travel alone.'

'You – you have to leave! Right away! It's not safe here, please, I'm begging you, just go, you can't –'

'_Emrys. _We came here out of choice. We knew the risks. Do not worry on our behalf.'

'But, _no_, pleas-'

'Emrys, do not worry.'

Merlin fell silent, chewing on his lip. He realised arguing with the peaceful man was going to have no effect whatsoever. He nodded once, reluctantly consenting to the druid's wishes.

'So, what's your name? You obviously know mine.'

The Druid smiled, as if he'd just been waiting for Merlin to ask him.

'My name is Urias.'

There was a short lull in the conversation, and they fell into silence, not really having anything to say to each other. Urias finished his water, and sat back in his chair.

'Emrys, we would be honoured if you would come to our camp. We would like to perform a ritual honouring you and your place of power.'

Merlin blinked in shock. Honouring him? But he was nothing, he wasn't even truly Emrys. After all, he'd failed in his destiny – he was no longer the warlock at the side of the Once and Future King. Why should any Druids wish to honour him? Feeling like a fraud, he nodded slowly, consenting to Urias' wishes.

Urias smiled and stood, making to leave the cave and waiting for Merlin expectantly. Not wanting to keep the Druid waiting Merlin cleared away their cups with a wave of his hand and joined him.

Arthur was riding fast and hard, his legs were aching, his shoulders were aching, his whole body was aching, crying out for a rest, but he didn't stop. He was stronger than the pains his body insisted on inflicting on him. Hengroen was a mighty stallion, and he could run for far longer than his rider was comfortable with. The sweat beaded on his forehead reminded him of the intensity of the sun beating down on him. Behind him three knights were desperately trying to keep up with their King and his ridiculous pace.

They were travelling to Feorre, intent on eliminating the Druids there. And yes, technically Engred was outside of Camelot's borders, but only just, and frankly, Arthur was now so feared that the other kings wouldn't dare to start a war over something so small.

They didn't have far to go now. They should be able to reach Feorre before day was over, and with any luck, begin the ride back before the sun rose.

Merlin was kneeling at the front of the altar the Druids had set up. His head was bowed and he shivered slightly at the gentle breeze which passed by in the spring air. The cloak which pooled around his feet rippled slightly, tickling his shoulders with the soft fabric.

He was clothed in the red cloak the Druids had given him for the ceremony. The hood fell over his face, shadowing his face, the small clasp fastened on his collarbone. The clasp was as intricately detailed as the symbols the Druids had painted onto his chest in preparation for the ceremony. His trousers were slung low around his hips, snug along his legs, but his feet were bare again, the Druids having requested he remove his well-worn soft leather boots. They said it helped him to be closer to the earth when they performed the ritual.

There was a moment of silence as Urias lit the herbs he needed to continue, and they began smoking slightly, and that was when Merlin heard it.

The pounding of horse's hooves.

Arthur could feel it in his bones. He was close, very close. It wouldn't be long until he could exact the revenge he desired so deeply.

Merlin froze, every muscle in his body tensing in fear. His eyes widened in fear, and he leapt to his feet on pure impulse. The ritual was no longer important. He had to get these people out of danger. He whirled round, the cloak fanning out behind him, and his eyes flashed in the shadows of his hood as he raised his hand. He cast a shield around all of the gathered Druids, who had started to rise in protest at what he was doing. Couldn't he see he was interrupting a sacred rite?

'Everyone! Be quiet!'

His voice was magically magnified as he bellowed to the crowd, who silenced before Emrys, the legendary one.

'I don't know who that is on those horses, but it's not likely to be good. So stay here and stay quiet. I won't let you get harmed'

His jaw set as he strode away from the altar, his long strides turning into a run through the trees with the cloak flapping out like wings behind him.

Arthur pulled up in a small clearing, looking around him for any signs that the Druids were nearby. They couldn't be far away now, they were practically _inside_ the Feorre mountain, never mind being at the foot of it. The air was still. Too still. His knights gathered around him in a circle and the all looked outwards, trying to find any miniscule hint which would allow them to complete this damned mission and get home to Camelot.

Hearing the horses in the clearing below Merlin paused, crouching down behind a small group of bushes. He was on a ridge which overlooked the clearing, surrounding it completely. It was a popular place for bandits to ambush unsuspecting travellers. Merlin had never had much trouble with them, not having anything worth stealing, but he knew just how vicious they could be from the times he'd travelled with Arthur.

Through the leaves Merlin could see the bright crimson of the cloaks the knights of Camelot always wore. He froze, not even wanting to breathe so he would stay hidden forever. But then he saw _him. _

Impossibly, there in the clearing, on his trusted stallion whom Merlin had cared for so many times when he was just a yearling, was King Arthur. The Once and Future King of all Albion.

The man who would likely love to have Merlin's head on a plate.

Merlin put it out of his mind. It wasn't important right now. He knew he had deserved what punishment Arthur had given him. He could deal with the shock of seeing him later, if he got out alive. Right now he had to focus on making sure the knights didn't discover and massacre the Druids.

Figuring the best plan would be to try and hear which direction they planned to take, Merlin crouched lower, paranoid he might be seen among the leaves. He had the advantage of knowing the territory; he would be able to get the Druids out safely if only he could _hear_ where Arthur wanted to go!

But then, looking out once more he saw, through the leaves on the other side of the ridge, an eye. It blinked, staring him straight in the face. Merlin closed his eyes, not wanting it to be true, but he reached out with his magic, and counted ten, twenty, thirty bandits hiding in the trees. Merlin's breath caught in his throat as he realised Arthur and his men had unwittingly wandered into a trap. A deadly trap.

War cries filled the air and suddenly there were swords clashing and howls of pain as the knights sprang off their horses already whirling their weapons through the air, cutting down the bandits leaping down to ambush them. They seemed to have sprung from nowhere and suddenly there were more than could have been imagined.

Arthur had been in many ambushes in his time, but this far surpassed any he had witnessed before. How had they managed to hide without him noticing? Never mind, that wasn't important, not when his men were struggling to hold off the sheer number of men pouring in to attack Camelot's finest. Arthurs sword sparked as it struck an enemy's and he slew him brutally, moving on to the next one who dared to try and take the King's life.

Merlin's eyes snapped open to the sounds of battle in the clearing below. Without thinking he leapt out from his hiding place, surging forward to take his place by his king, where had always belonged, doing his duty to protect him. Staying hidden was no longer relevant. Arthur could not be allowed to die here.

His anger leapt to his fingertips, gathering in an orb of pure, furious power. It cast a blue light over his skin, sending the shadows of the dusk skittering away. He raised it above his head, staring at it briefly, recognising its strength, before he eyed up the opponents who had paused in their fights.

They were staring at him, disbelieving, as they saw the powerful warlock standing before him, his eyes consumed by fire, lithe and dangerous and ready for action. He smirked at their reactions, knowing they didn't stand a chance against him.

And then the moment of calm was over and they rushed at him, a group effort to eliminate their strongest enemy, surrounding him with futile weapons made of steel against the wrath of his magic.

Let the battle commence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here it is! Part two of My Place Is By Your Side, so I really hope you like it! Thanks to everyone for the great response to part one (no, really, THANK YOU!)**_  
_

_And then the moment of calm was over and they rushed at him, a group effort to eliminate their strongest enemy, surrounding him with futile weapons made of steel against the wrath of his magic. _

_Let the battle commence. _

Arthur stared at the warrior before him, cloak swirling round his shoulders, his golden eyes entirely focused on the fight. He couldn't believe his heart when he heard it tell him it was Merlin. This wasn't the boy he had sent away seven years ago, the damnable clumsy traitor. This was a fierce warrior, as strong and mighty as any of the knights of Camelot. He stared in awe as the man took on all of the bandits, striking them down with a flick of his fingers, sending out orbs of powers from his palms, ducking attacks and blocking blows in a never ending flow of motion.

Merlin finally halted his attack, having defeated the onslaught of idiots who seemed to think they could have beaten him even after seeing their comrades fall so easily at his hand. His bare chest was heaving, his muscles covered in a thin layer of sweat as he dropped his hands down to his sides. He swallowed as he turned to look Arthur in the eye, his eyes blue once more and wide with what might have been fear.

'Sire' His voice was low as he bowed before the king. He stood and turned to walk away.

Arthur watched as he began to stride off, and it took a second or two for his vocal chords to start co-operating.

'W-wait. Merlin, wait'. He wasn't even sure if he's spoken loud enough for Merlin to hear him.

Merlin froze on the spot. Surely the King couldn't be calling him back? He could only think of one reason why he would be doing that. More punishment. Probably execution this time, despite how he'd just saved the prat's life _again. _He turned, his jaw tensing up in anticipation.

Arthur stumbled over the apology which had leapt to his lips. The man in front of him was so startlingly different to what he had expected. After everything, all the hurt and the pain, it was still Merlin. Merlin was still the only one who could render him absolutely speechless. But it wasn't the Merlin he had known before, and somehow that hurt more than Arthur ever thought it could have – because _he_ had been the one to cause this change. He was a battle hardened soldier, the most powerful man he'd ever seen, and the most loyal friend he'd ever had.

Merlin stood stock still, not looking forward to whatever would fall out of Arthur's mouth when he eventually managed to get it to work. He tried not to show one smidgen of the thunderstorm of emotions that boiled within him. Sure, he'd been angry and hurt when Arthur had exiled him. Disappointed even, having hoped that Arthur had it within him to have a little empathy. But he thought that whole maelstrom had blown over and that all he held now for the King of Camelot was apathy.

'Yes, sire? If you're going to try and kill me, I would sincerely advise you against that plan of action.' Merlin was careful to keep his voice free from emotion. He didn't want Arthur to know just how much sway he still had over him, even after all this time.

'Kill you? Why the hell would I do that? You just saved our lives!' Arthur gestured to the knights next to him, who were staying out of this reunion.

'Well, it makes a difference to what you threatened me with last time we saw each other. And it's not like it was the first time I've saved your life but you were never particularly grateful all the other times, _sire_' Merlin pronounced the last word with a decided sneer and a curl of his lip. He turned to walk away again, and this time it wasn't words which stopped him, but a hand on his shoulder.

He span round, tensing up, and Arthur awkwardly lowered his hand from the warlock's cloaked shoulder, suddenly aware of just how vulnerable he was in front of this man. His gaze dropped from Merlin's face to the ground, and he shifted from one foot to the other. Risking a glance up he spoke, hoarse and quiet.

'The other times?'

His face was full of uncertainty and confusion, and when Merlin studied him closer he saw a genuine curiosity and gratefulness under there as well.

Merlin was silent, not entirely sure of how to respond. He still had the Druids to protect, and here was the very man who wanted to kill them. He wanted to explain everything to Arthur, make him finally _understand_ and yet he hated the very sight of him for all the pain it caused him. He frowned.

'Wait here. I have something I need to do. I won't be long.' Merlin knew he didn't have any chance of making the King of Camelot stay where he was if the King really wanted to go anywhere, but he figured his best strategy would be to make sure the Druids were safe first and explain later. As he strode away from the clearing, his bare feet soft on the muddy ground, Arthur started after him, but caught himself just in time. Merlin wasn't some idiot servant anymore. He was a grown man who'd lives alone in the forest for seven years. He could handle whatever he was wandering off to do.

Merlin walked as fast as he could, not willing to break into another run. The more time he had to think about Arthur the better, but the Druids pressed him to move more urgently. If Arthur decided to ignore Merlin's order, then he wouldn't have much time to get them to safety.

Upon reaching the site he'd let the confused Druids, he erased the shield he'd created with a flick of his wrist, and went straight to where the altar still stood.

'It's King Arthur. You aren't safe here. You need to leave, I can show a route which will take you away from Camelot's men.'

Urias stepped forward, intent on reassuring Emrys that he needn't worry about the Druids safety, but Merlin cut him off before he even began with a single look. Striding off in the direction directly opposite to the one where Arthur was (hopefully) waiting, he gestured for the group to follow. Urias hung back, waiting to speak to Merlin alone, as the rest of the camp began to trek further into Engred.

'Emrys. Be careful around the Pendragon. If it is not safe for us, then surely it is not safe for you either.'

'I am more than capable of defending myself Urias. Carry on westward for a day or so, you should be fine after that. I'll deal with King Arthur.'

'Then I wish you luck Emrys. And, thank you. Thank you for keeping us safe from him – he is no friend to us Druids.'

'It's fine. I need to get back, make sure he didn't follow me here. Good luck to you too Urias.'

The Druid nodded in lieu of a goodbye, a motion Merlin returned, before setting off to return to his king.

Because, even after all this time, and the betrayal, and disappointment, and hurt, Arthur really _was_ Merlin's king. It didn't matter that he'd been exiled, or that he didn't even come from Camelot, merlin would always regard Arthur as the man he would follow till the ends of the Earth, because he was his king. Arthur was the Once and Future King, and Merlin was his warlock.

Arthur paced back and forth as his knights looked on. None of them were quite sure how to react to this unexpected turn in events. They had come on the campaign expecting to have an effortless battle with some Druids, and now they found themselves in the centre of a crazy reunion with a convicted sorcerer. Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine had known Merlin from before; in fact they had been there when Merlin had been banished. But Sir Owain had only become a knight four years ago, he was still young, and well, he was terrified out of his mind. All he knew was that an extremely powerful sorcerer who apparently knew the King had just dictated their situation and had probably just left them to die. Or he was going to come back and kill them all before they could even attempt to defend themselves. Understandably, he was freaking out a little, and no hushed attempts from Leon or Gwaine helped him calm down. Eventually Arthur got so irritated by his constant fretting that he just exploded at him, all of his tension being thrust upon the young knight, who Arthur knew didn't really deserve all of that rage directed at him, but at the same time he should have known better. Owain was, after all, a knight of Camelot – and knights didn't fret.

Arthur fell silent, the forest eerily quiet after his outburst of shouting. At least Owain wasn't flitting to and fro like a mother hen anymore. The silence drew on and on, until at long last Arthur's ears picked up the cadence of Merlin's footsteps as he made his way back to them. He'd stopped long enough at the Druid's camp to put on his old leather boots and he'd hastily pulled on his shirt, retying his neckerchief on as he made his way back to Arthur. His hair was ruffled from his haste and he was slightly out of breath from rushing back to make sure the King was where he'd left him. His tense shoulders visibly relaxed as he saw that Arthur was still there, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

'So what now Merlin?' Arthur asked. He had never been fond of not knowing the whole plan, but he was willing to let it slide, just a little, for Merlin. Only whilst he had to though. (Patience never had been one of Arthur's strong suits)

'Um…we go back to my…my cave…and-' Merlin hadn't quite thought far enough ahead. He didn't really know what he planned to do.

'And we talk. I think we're long overdue for a talk' Arthur stepped in to finish Merlin's sentence.

Merlin nodded at him in agreement and me his way to the edge of the clearing as the knights and Arthur mounted their horses to follow him through the forest.

'You live _here_? Isn't this where we found Balinor?' Arthur looked vaguely outraged as he swept his eyes over the cave Merlin now called home.

'Um. Yes.' Merlin was very quiet, suddenly as embarrassed of his cave as he had been of Ealdor when he'd taken Arthur there so many years ago. He thought it was perfectly comfortable, but of course he couldn't expect the king to have quite the same emotions about it. He felt the urge to explain himself, so Arthur wouldn't think him completely idiotic. 'Well, um, Balinor was my father. So I came back here.'

'Wait. Balinor was your _father_? And you never thought to mention this?' Arthur was utterly taken aback by this new information, and he sank down into one of Merlin's hand-carved chairs. The knights were tying up the horses outside, and then they too walked into the cave, searching for a place to sit. Merlin offered them the remaining chair and a couple boxes he'd been using as tables, as he settled himself of the edge of his bed.

'Um. Yeah.' Merlin felt very small and awkward, but he knew Arthur wanted him to elaborate more than that. 'I never told you because, well, you knew he was a Dragonlord, and, it's kind of hereditary. If I told you, it would have meant telling you about my- my magic.' Merlin stumbled over the last words, not at all comfortable with talking about his magic so openly, and yet, he knew he had to do it.

'Right. Of course. So, you're a warlock, and a Dragonlord then?'

'Um. Last Dragonlord actually. And if you believe the legends, the most powerful warlock in all of history.' Merlin figured there was no point in hiding anything anymore. Arthur couldn't kill him if he wanted to, and he couldn't bear betraying the king any longer. Time to come clean. With _all_ of it.

'Okay…And why exactly did the most powerful warlock in all of history go to Camelot, where magic is _outlawed_?' Arthur was not only slow in reconciling the concepts of Merlin the servant and Merlin the most powerful warlock, he was incredulous that he had ever put himself in such danger. He thought he had at least a tiny shred of instinct for self-preservation.

'I-I didn't know I was the most powerful when I arrived. And I fully planned on leaving, but your father made me your manservant. My mother had sent me there, to get me away from Ealdor for a bit, experience the world and all that, but I don't think she planned on me being employed in the royal household and having to stay there longer than I really needed to. But then, then I heard the dragon, and-'

'You _what?_ Heard the dragon? _What dragon?_' Arthur interrupted, and it was painfully obvious Uther had never told him the dragon which had attacked Camelot had once been trapped under the very castle he lived in.

'The Great Dragon. He's called Kilgarrah. Your father chained him up in some cavern down in the dungeons during the Great Purge. He – I don't know, he kind of spoke to me I guess. In my head. He just kept on saying my name, and eventually I went to investigate, and then he tells me a load of riddles about destiny and fate and 'two sides of the same coin' and you and me.' Once Merlin had started he couldn't stop, the words just kept pouring out of him in a gushing river of confessions. 'And then things just kept happening, and I kept stepping in to save you with my magic, because I couldn't let you die, since it's my 'destiny' to protect you and I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you so badly, but I couldn't because then you'd have me killed, or you'd just hate me forever, and I was so, so scared of how you'd react and then that day when we were ambushed I had no choice, I had to do _something,_ even though you'd see and even then, when you walked over towards me, I thought that maybe just maybe there was a chance you'd forgive me for all the lies and the betrayal and just realise I'd saved your life, only this was the first time you knew it, and _even then_ you just saw red when you saw magic, just like Uther and you sent me away and I deserved it, I know I did, but there were times Arthur, when I just wished you'd killed me instead, so then I wouldn't have to live with, with the failure I'd become.'

Merlin stopped, breathless, his voice having risen to hysteria, tears shining in his blue eyes. He swallowed, averted his eyes and silently awaited Arthur's reaction. He hadn't meant to say all of that.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face as he sighed heavily. He knew it was his turn to let it all out – it was the least he owed to Merlin after that outpouring. By this point, the world had narrowed to just the two of them, and the knights, the cave, the outside world, none of it existed. It was just Merlin and him.

'You think I act like Uther?' Arthur looked at his hands clasped in his lap, his brow furrowed with the weight of his thoughts. 'I never wanted to be like him Merlin. Never in a million years. He was a strong king, yes, but he was also a tyrant. And – and I don't want to be a tyrant. I want to be a different man to my father. He spent so long trying to make me see how magic was evil, and how I needed to keep it vanquished like he had done, and how that was the only way to keep Camelot strong and safe. And then here you are, and you make me question everything I ever knew about magic. I thought it twisted a person, that once they allowed themselves to be tempted by its fickle promises, then they lost true control of their minds, of how they used it. But you've saved my life with it, at least two times. And now I just don't know what to think anymore.'

Arthur paused, and merlin realised this was the perfect time to make Arthur see the difference between magic being evil, and magic being _used_ for evil.

'Arthur, I didn't choose to study magic. I never wanted it, not once, but I was born with it. It's a part of me, one that I can't erase, no matter how hard I try. Magic doesn't make you evil, it just makes you a sorcerer. It's just a force, like the wind or the rain, and it can be good or it can be bad. It depends on who is using it and why they're using it. A man who simply wants to heal his wife who is sick is not evil for wanting to ease her suffering. But a man who attacks a defenceless peasant with magic for no reason is surely evil, because that only _causes _suffering. Magic in itself is just a thing like any other.'

'So, it is like an axe which can be used to cut down a tree to build a new house, or as a weapon in times of war?'

'Yes! Yes, that's _exactly_ what it's like Arthur.'

'And you used it to cut down the tree, not as a weapon, yes?'

'Yes. That's all I've ever done Arthur. Using magic in Camelot is stupid at the best of times, but I couldn't let you die, not when I had the capability to stop it happening. So I saved you. Again, and again, and again, whenever I had to.'

'You've saved me more than twice? How many times have you saved me merlin? How many times do I owe my life to you?'

'Um…well, I've kind of lost count over the years. It's been a lot. That time when Lady Helen came to sing at the banquet, and she turned out to be that sorceress, and she threw a dagger at you. Well, I made the chandelier fall on her, and I slowed time so I could push you out of the way. And then there was the time with Valiant in the tournament, with the snakes and the shield. I knew that was how he was killing his opponents, but I couldn't find any proof, so I figured out a way to call them out in front of everyone. And then with Sophia, when she enchanted you, I was the one who saved you from her when she tried to drown you in order to return to Avalon. And then –'

'Merlin. Enough. Clearly, I'd be nowhere without you by my side.' Arthur huffed a little, reminiscent of the banter the two used to throw between each other, before everything got so complicated. 'I was obviously mistaken about you when I banished you. I'm sorry. '

The silence grew and thickened around them as they looked at each other, neither one sure of how to respond, or continue the conversation. The quiet pressed around them until it was suffocating them with the amount of things left unsaid. Arthur felt the pressure build up behind his closed lips until he couldn't hold his composure anymore and the flood burst forth, demanding to be heard.

'It's just that when I saw you using magic, it went against everything I'd ever been taught, hell, it still _does, _and my immediate reaction was to kill you right there and then. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, no matter how much I wanted to, so I exiled you instead. I thought that maybe if you weren't in Camelot, you wouldn't be a danger to me, or anyone else around you, that it would be the best for us all. And then when I got back to Camelot, and I thought of you all alone out here and with winter coming, I couldn't help but question myself. Had I done the right thing? Had I? But there was no-one there to give me the answers I sought. And, I guess that over time I just resented my rash thinking and then I just hated magic all the more, because it had taken so _much_ from me – you, Gwen, my father, Morgana, and I couldn't take it anymore! I needed to do something to right it, and all I could see was to erase it as completely as I could, to make it like there wasn't even anything such as magic, and I started attacking anyone and everyone, even the Druids. And then I just hated myself even more, because I'd promised to you that I would leave them alone, since they'd done no harm. It all just got so – so out of hand, and there was no-one to stop me. But, Merlin, you said that you'd saved me, and clearly you have, many times, far more than I deserve. I especially didn't deserve it today, not after everything I've done to you. I never listened to you, not even once, when we were in Camelot. I just ignored you, I never thought about your needs, I was too busy being full of myself, the crown prince of Camelot. And what good does that pride do me now? I'm king and I still need you to watch my back. And, well, if I'm still standing after all those times you've been there to step in, then obviously you're doing _something_ right. You're clearly not a failure Merlin. How, how can you even think that? If it's your destiny to protect me, then you've done a pretty damned good job, don't you think?'

Arthur fell silent again, apparently content that he had said all had to say. Emotions weren't his strong point, and it would probably be another seven years before he ever said anything else of the sort again. Merlin sat dumbfounded by everything that Arthur had said. It wasn't what he'd expected at all. He hadn't expected an apology, a reassurance of his worth, he'd expected shouting and punishments, maybe even a fist fight.

'Thank you sire.'

Merlin spoke the words so quietly Arthur wasn't sure if he'd just imagined them or if Merlin really had just thanked him. Although, he wasn't entirely sure why he was being thanked.

Night was drawing in and a chill had begun to set into the air. A breeze roused the two men from their thoughts, and they remembered the knights who had sat so patiently through all of this, not saying a word, simply listening and trying to understand. Owain was still somewhat skittish around merlin, even as he offered to let them sleep there for the night, saying that no one need to take up a watch, he had enchantments in place to warn him of any danger. Leon offered to take him out to collect some more firewood, having noticed that merlin was nearly out, and to try and catch a rabbit or two to make some supper for them all. Arthur nodded at his friend gratefully as he took the young night outside, knowing how uncomfortable Owain was with the whole situation. He could trust Leon to ease his mind before they returned. Meanwhile, Gwaine remained in the cave, chatting easily with Merlin, a sombreness hidden behind his joking exterior as they rearranged things so there would be room for the five of them to eat and sleep comfortably. Merlin found this conversation much easier, as Gwaine seemed to have accepted magic a long time ago, and now he was simply being curious. Arthur listened in as he worked, eager to learn all he could, but he didn't want to have _another_ awkward conversation with Merlin.

'So, that thing you did down in the clearing, what was that? Those blue orbs or whatever they were.' Gwaine was brazen in his questioning, cutting right to the chase.

'I…Um, I'm not sure. I just knew I needed to protect you all. So that's what my magic did. I think they were just kind of, um, balls of power or something. They worked anyway, so I don't really care.'

Arthur decided to chip in, he thought he'd recognised the orbs for another time when he'd been in danger…

'They looked like that light which guided me out of the cave Nimueh trapped me in, when I went to get the Mortaeus flower for you Merlin.'

'Um. Really?'

'Yes, really. I never knew what it was that had guided me out of there. Without it I certainly would have died though, so perhaps that's another time I owe you my life.'

'Oh. Well, Gaius had said I was mumbling some spells of some sort under my breath in my fever, so maybe one of those sent you the light. I dunno.'

Gwaine smirked at the renewed awkwardness between them as they tried to figure out if they could put that incident down to Merlin or just pure coincidence. He found Merlin's bumbling cluelessness rather adorable actually. The three of them continued clearing the space, and Gwaine continued his easy questioning of Merlin. Thankfully, he found these questions easy to answer and the chatter flowed between them like in the old times.

Leon and Owain returned carrying firewood and a couple of game birds, since they hadn't been able to find any rabbits. Splitting up the jobs, everyone got to work preparing the food and before long they were tucking into a tasty meal of hot stew. Merlin handed out some of the bread he'd baked the day before, and soon they were all full of the hearty meal. They were quiet, mulling over the day's events, but it had been a long day – especially for Merlin who wasn't used to using his magic so much in one day - and pretty soon he was yawning. The knights didn't complain about going to bed, their muscles ached from the hard day riding, and they knew they might need their energy if they got attacked again on the way back home. As Merlin strode around the perimeter of 'his' part of the forest, checking his enchantments still held, Leon joined him.

Leon had never spent much time with Merlin in Camelot, seeing himself as a noble and Merlin as a mere servant. Sure, he knew he was loyal and hard-working, but he'd never imagined he was a sorcerer of any great strength, even after his dramatic revelation. He'd had a long time to become accustomed to the idea, and talking over it with Owain had helped settle his own mind as well, and now he felt the need to tell Merlin what he felt.

'Merlin, I just wanted you to know, I think Arthur's lucky to have you. Few would stick around after everything he's done to you. He's still trying to get his head round the concept of magic not being evil, but he'll get there in the end. And, I just wanted to say, that I think I understand what you mean. And – and I have no shame in putting my trust in you. Like Arthur said, it's clear you've saved us before now, I see no reason not to have faith that you'd do it again. As I would for you. '

'Thank you Leon. It means a lot. And, I know Arthur's finding all of _this_ difficult' Merlin gestured wildly, trying to indicate himself and everything that came with him, 'but his heart's in the right place. I won't leave him again, he won't be able to get rid of me.' Merlin finished with a little smile, which Leon returned as he clapped a hand upon the man's shoulder.

They went back inside, Merlin content that they would be safe for the night. Owain hesitantly nodded at Merlin, trying to convey that he too trusted him and accepted him, and they all settled down to sleep.

The dawn would bring a new day, and the start of a new age for them all, one where Merlin fulfilled his destiny, and took up his rightful place – by Arthur's side.


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: Sorry for how long it took! However, please enjoy part 3, and know that I have the rest of the fic planned out, and I am in the process of writing it! :D)**_  
_

_The dawn would bring a new day, and the start of a new age for them all, one where Merlin fulfilled his destiny, and took up his rightful place – by Arthur's side. _

As the sun's rays broke over the horizon, Merlin blinked slowly, waking gradually like he always did. It was as he returned to full consciousness that he realised he wasn't alone. His mind was still foggy and his heart was gripped with icy panic as he saw the red cloaks of the knights who slept next to him. He'd been found. He'd been captured. He'd be- oh. Arthur. The events of the day before came flooding back to him. He visibly relaxed, and breath flooded through him as he understood he was in no danger.

Arthur and the knights were early risers, and it wasn't long before they were ready to move on from Engred and return to Camelot. By some unspoken agreement Merlin was joining them, and since he had so few belongings, he didn't add much extra weight to the party as they set off.

Merlin was sad to see the back of Ballinor's cave, the place where he had finally been able to connect to his father in a way he hadn't been able to when he had been alive. However, he couldn't deny the flutter of hope in him, a flutter he hadn't felt in so, so long.

They made good progress as they trekked through the woods. Arthur had ridden out at a ridiculous pace, which was impractical to repeat on the return journey, so they took their time, chatting and admiring the scenery as they went. They would have to camp for one night, but they had plenty of food and blankets, and Gwaine had already offered to loan some to Merlin, so there was no question about the sleeping arrangements. Usually, on any sort of campaign, the knights were used to having just a few hours of rest at a time as they kept watch in shifts. Merlin thought they would welcome the chance to sleep straight through like they had the night before and he offered to set up the protective enchantments he usually cast for himself. It wasn't a strenuous task, more a habit, and it barely taxed him to bespell the ground they were camping on. If any danger approached through the night, Merlin's magic would awaken them all.

Rising the next morning every single one of them was refreshed and they packed up and moved on, eager to see Camelot over the brow of the hill signalling their return home. Arthur was anxious to make sure his kingdom was still standing, having left it in the care of his most prestigious advisors - most of them ones Uther had favoured – and still not trusting that they could do their job correctly without him. Merlin was filled with apprehension as he spied the castle in the distance. He knew it was likely his presence in Camelot would not be very welcome. He was a known sorcerer, unless Arthur had kept his mouth shut about him for all these years. He supposed he would only know once he arrived.

Time passed draggingly slowly as they approached the main gates to the castle, manned by two mounted guards. They met Arthur's eyes briefly as the party neared, bowed their heads and opened up the gates to let them through. Merlin cast his own eyes away from them, nervous of attracting too much attention. The King himself may have accepted his magic but Camelot was under a much harsher rule than it had been when he'd arrived as a young lad. He was going to have to be vigilant if he was to keep his secret safe from the general population.

They made their way through the courtyard, and Merlin's heart leapt into his mouth at what he saw. Gaius. The physician he had loved so dearly, like a father, even after he'd found out Balinor was his true flesh and blood, and there he was, just the same as ever. Well, perhaps he had a few more wrinkles around the eyes, and he was more haggard, but he was still the same man Merlin had left behind seven years ago.

Merlin unwrapped his arms from where they'd been holding on to Gwaine's waist as they rode and jumped off the back of the horse. He ran over to meet the ancient physician, clinging to him tightly as tears of joy sprung up at the corners of his eyes. Gaius held him close, not wanting to let go in case it was just some elaborate dream, and he'd wake up to find it was all an illusion as the disappointment sank deep in his stomach. He'd grown used to that horrible feeling after months and years of expecting Merlin to walk through his door again, but eventually he'd lost all hope. And yet here he was, hope manifested.

Arthur looked on at the pair of them as he waited for a stable hand to take his horse from him. People thought that after Uther had died he'd become a hardened man, that he no longer cared about his subjects the way he had as a prince. But that wasn't true. He still cared about them, more than the courtiers imagined; only he'd trained himself not to show it. He was a king now, and he couldn't be seen to allow his emotions to interfere with his work. The truth was he'd noticed the difference in Gaius since he'd exiled Merlin, the way he noticed everything and let on nothing. It would do Gaius good to have Merlin back. As a loyal old man, he deserved to have some happiness restored to his life.

In the days that followed the group's return from Engred, Arthur began to enact the change Merlin deserved. It would be a slow, arduous process, but now that he finally understood magic, it only made sense for him to instigate it's gradual return to Camelot. He was desperate to persuade Merlin to join the discussions as an official advisor, but despite his many offers of a promotion Merlin continually refused.

'Merlin. How many times do you complain that I work you too hard as my manservant?'

'Um. Every day?'

'Yes. So wouldn't you rather just become an advisor and never have to polish my armour again?'

'Not one bit. You see, I've grown rather fond of your armour - I couldn't possibly trust anyone else with it.'

'Merlin! I need your help with this - you're the one with the magic!'

'And you're the one who knows how these things work! Look at it this way.

We're still under threat from Morgana, and she's probably still allied with

Cenred. At some point they're going to want to attack us again. So which is better, the surprise advantage, or the known threat? If I go to court and take this promotion, Morgana _will_ hear about it somehow. Then she'll know

I have magic. But if I'm just your manservant like normal, then she won't

suspect anything when she comes and then she'll find out I'm here to protect

Camelot.'

'Well...'

'I don't know a great deal about these things Arthur, but I would have said

the surprise would be a better tactic. You'll do fine without me, honestly.

And anyway, you can always ask me if you need anything. That _is _what I'm here for.'

Merlin stared at Arthur, defiant. He meant what he'd said. Besides, he actually did enjoy being a manservant again. It was familiar to him, and he knew if he took up a position in court he'd just make a fool of himself for not knowing the protocols. Arthur stared back at him for a moment before sighing in defeat. He knew there was no point arguing with his stubborn manservant, especially when he himself could see the logic of Merlin remaining where he was.

Rolling his eyes Arthur turned his back on the sorcerer, crossing his chambers to eat the lunch Merlin had brought up for him. He was having a much longed for break in the negotiations with his advisors and he relished in the solace of his room. It had been a stressful few days, but it seemed like they were finally making some progress. Arthur hoped the declaration that he was ending the war on the Druids to be signed by the end of the day, with envoys travelling out to known Druid camps to take the good news. The envoys would also ask about leaders coming to Camelot for further negotiations on the place Druids had in Camelot's society, and how they wanted it to change over the coming weeks and months.

A few weeks later, Arthur was deep in discussions with the Druid leaders the envoys had managed to contact. He kept offering them more freedoms and more assurances of protection, but no matter what he said they refused to trust that he would keep his word. To them, a signed piece of paper didn't mean anything. They wanted a treaty bound by magic.

Of course, Arthur couldn't possibly agree to anything like that, simply because he was the King of Camelot. Any King or Queen in their right mind would refuse such a demand outright. It was simply tactical suicide to take such action. Magic could be used for many things, as Arthur knew well, and evil was one of them. There was no way he could open himself up to the possibility of him being manipulated by magic for the sake of one treaty.

However, because of this, the negotiations didn't seem to be going anywhere.

Although a satisfactory settlement could definitely be found, neither party could find a way of guaranteeing it that the other also accepted.

It was day three of talks, and Arthur was absolutely adamant that they would make some kind of progress. They were working right through the day, not retiring for lunch, and so Merlin was in the Council Room for the first time since the discussions had begun. Since they weren't taking a break for lunch, various servants from the castle had been chosen from the castle to serve lunch at the table whilst they continued with their business. Having been chosen for their loyalty and discretion, they were among the most trusted in the castle. Merlin had, obviously, been chosen, albeit more for his loyalty than his discretion. (Even after seven years of hunting for his food in the woods, the solution to his clumsiness still eluded him).

When the servants entered the room with the lunch trays, Arthur nearly cried with relief. Far from making progress, it seemed they had actually moved _backwards_ with the Druids not even trusting Camelot's wish to re-integrate magic into society. Now, they were convinced it was an elaborate conspiracy theory, where Camelot was just tricking them, getting all the magic users out in the open, before picking them off like flies. Camelot didn't have a great reputation when it came to sorcery, so to a certain extent their suspicion was understandable, but Arthur was at breaking point. He felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall. Repeatedly. He was so frustrated he was seriously considering asking Merlin for advice on how to get the Druids to like him.

Merlin was just crossing the room to give the King his meal when one of the Druid leaders shouted out above the quiet hubbub of the room.

'Tell me, King Arthur, how you can deny us freedom when you have Emrys working in your midst.'

Silence.

_Emrys?_

Who the _hell_ was Emrys? Whoever he was, Arthur sure as hell wanted to meet the guy, since he was pretty sure none of the servants in the Council Room were called Emrys. Surely he'd remember a name like that! Never mind that, what did this _Emrys_ have to do with the Druids? And how did they even know who this Emrys guy was? Finally he got his mouth to catch up with the thoughts racing through his head.

'Emrys? Who's Emrys?'

More silence.

And then, from across the room, came a quiet voice.

'I am. I'm Emrys.'

Arthur traced the voice to where Merlin was stood, his head bowed, hands gripping the tray so hard his knuckles had turned white.

The Druid leader who had spoken got out of his seat and walked over to Merlin, who was still staring at the floor. Taking the tray and setting it down on the table, he embraced the young man tightly.

'Emrys. It is good to see you are well.'

Stumbling backwards, his wide eyes blinking, Merlin broke the hug staring up at the man in front of him. He recognised that voice, it was-

'Urias! What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go west. Why the hell are you in Camelot?'

'I was called here by King Arthur, for the discussions. One of his envoys contacted me. Why are _you_ here Emrys?'

'I'm Arthur's manservant. This is where I'm meant to be.'

'Well, perhaps if you say that is so, then it is.'

Arthur had had enough of the happy family reunion, especially when didn't really have any idea what was going on. Had Merlin betrayed him _again_? What was that about sending Urias west?

'His name isn't Emrys, he's called Merlin for god's sake! What the hell is going on here?'

Merlin stared at him, recognising the anger which bubbled below the surface, ready to boil over at a moment's notice, and froze. Every possible variation of an explanation dried up in his throat and he was silent as his king demanded an answer from him. Urias placed a calming hand on Merlin' shoulder and took control of the situation, something Merlin was eternally grateful for.

'The Druids have legends, passed down from our ancestors since the beginning of time. They tell of a sorcerer more powerful than any other the world has ever seen, or will ever see again. His name literally means 'immortal'. We have spent centuries searching for him, trying to make this land ready for his arrival, for it is foretold that he will be the one who aids the Once and Future King to bring forth the Golden Age of Albion, unified under one leader, which history will never forget. The Druids have a name for this sorcerer. That name is Emrys.'

Urias smiled down at Merlin who was blushing slightly and casting his eyes away from Arthur, unsure about the reception this unveiling would have.

Arthur's mind was whirling. Merlin was _Emrys_. Emrys was the most powerful sorcerer in all of history. _Merlin_ was- what? That couldn't be right.

Sure, Arthur had figured Merlin was reasonably powerful - the display in the forest had shown that - but the _most_ powerful? No, that was ridiculous.

Merlin couldn't even tidy Arthur's room without tripping at least three times. Nobody that _clumsy_ could be that powerful right?

Arthur sat staring at Urias and Merlin, trying to process everything before even attempting to speak. Just as he thought he might have understood it, he realised something else. If Emrys was supposed to aid the Once and Future King, and Merlin was Emrys, and he said he belonged next to Arthur, then-

'Are you saying I'm the Once and Future King?'

'Um. Yes. But, but we're not the ones who're saying so!' Merlin was suddenly hit by the old impulse to ratify everything he was saying, as if his word still meant nothing to Arthur as it had done before. 'The Great Dragon, he, um, he can see into the future and he said that it's my destiny to help you become the Once and Future King. And that you'll unite all the lands of Albion. Um. Yeah.'

He trailed off awkwardly, not quite sure how to finish such a proclamation.

'_I'm_ the Once and Future King, and the _dragon_ told you? What? What's even going on here anymore?'

Arthur let his head fall into his hands, rubbing at his brow. The last ten minutes had taken more out of him than his daily training. He had no idea how to deal with any part of what was happening now. The awareness that every pair of eyes was trained on him prickled at his skin and the need to be in private overtook any other instinct he might have had as king.

'Right. Merlin, come with me. I think, gentlemen, it would be wise to have a break so we can think about what we have just learned. Clearly, it's going to change some aspects of our discussions.'

Standing, he strode out of the Council Room, Merlin hurrying to follow him, nearly forgetting the lunch tray he had been in the process of delivering to him.

Finally back in his chambers, away from the prying eyes of the court, Arthur slumped in his chair, as if physically exhausted by the new information.

Merlin hovered awkwardly at the edge of the room, not quite sure what to do with himself - or what Arthur wanted of him. Eventually, after the silence had stretched out painfully long, Arthur spoke.

'Why didn't you tell me? When we were in Engred, in your cave, I thought you'd told me everything, that all the lies were over.'

'I, um, I told you everything I thought was relevant, I guess. Destiny wasn't exactly something I was thinking about right then - I was kinda more concerned with making sure you didn't think I was evil, cause I'm not.'

Merlin stared at the ground awkwardly and shuffled his feet. He hadn't realised how much this could seem like another betrayal to Arthur. But destiny and legends had paled in importance compared the sheer joy that came with the renewed possibility for acceptance.

'Destiny? Druid legends? How was that not important?' Arthur shook his head, dismissing any answer before Merlin even attempted to give it. 'But, seriously, Merlin. How powerful _are_ you?'

He needed to know exactly who he was dealing with. He needed to know if

Merlin stood any chance at all against Morgana when she inevitably came to fight them once again. Merlin could read it in the blue eyes which peered at him, imploring.

'Urias said Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer in all of history. I'm not so sure about that, but I_ am _Emrys, and I'm more than a match for Morgana. I'm powerful enough to have legends written about me Arthur, I think that says something.'

Merlin, despite a little self-doubt, really did believe in the legends. Maybe he wasn't that powerful _yet_ and he would be when he was older. But it was true that he hadn't yet found anything he couldn't fight back against. Well, except the dorocha, but he's managed to survive their touch hadn't he? That had to mean something.

Arthur nodded once, and Merlin left him to his thoughts as he ate his lunch.

When they re-joined in the Council Room after lunch, Arthur felt much more in control of both his emotions, and the situation. Sitting at the head of the table, it seemed like progress might _finally_ begin to happen. With the aid of Merlin (whom he had ordered to be involved with the negotiations in light of recent events) he felt that some sort of peace could be found. First of all though, he had to find out why Merlin and Urias knew each other in the first place.

Urias was the one who explained the circumstances in which he and Merlin had met, using the peculiar tactical charm which so many Druids seemed to possess. His calm, measured tone appeared to have been perfected over many years so it could explain tricky issues whilst placating those it was likely to offend. He told the tale of how Merlin had saved them from Arthur's campaign when his conclave had pilgrimaged to Ballinor's cave - Merlin's place of power.

Arthur, ever the diplomat, took this blatant law-breaking in his stride - after all, Merlin had broken the law by just walking into Camelot that day he'd first arrived. At least he knew that Urias trusted Merlin, and that was all he really needed.

After the drama that had surrounded lunchtime, the meeting until supper was relatively uneventful. Except, of course, for the small fact that a preliminary peace treaty had been written up and was ready for both parties to sign.

With the proviso that Merlin would be the one to create the magical bond sealing the treaty, both sides were eager to forget their past differences and look toward a new age filled with hope. Druids could expect the same treatment as every other citizen of Camelot, and a fair trial if they were ever accused of crimes using magic. Although Arthur couldn't practically completely repeal the ban on magic quite yet, he had promised to keep up the discussions on relaxing the laws, to ease the people into the idea that magic could be used for good, as well as for the evil everyone knew.

Arthur took up the quill and signed his name at the end of the document before handing it over to Urias and the other Druid leaders to do the same. Signatures done, they looked at Merlin, waiting for him to cast the enchantment needed to formally seal the deal for the Druids. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply to centre himself, he extended his hand. Holding it out over the document and the linked hands of Arthur and the Druids, he whispered the spell, opening his eyes as they glowed with his trademark gold. It was done.

Wine was poured into goblets and passed around, a toast being proclaimed by Arthur to raucous cheers and applause. People clinked their glasses together in celebration, the polished metal glinting in the setting sun. The celebrations were just getting underway when the doors to the room burst open.

Arthur froze, his eyes focused on who had _dared_ to intrude unannounced on such a prestigious occasion. His judgemental expression sobered into a frown as he realised who it was.

The patrol's red cloak dragged on the ground as he bowed as he walked toward the king. He was out of breath, his cheeks flushed and chest heaving. His footsteps left strands of hay and clumps of mud behind him. The urgency is his eyes was reflected in his voice as he announced his news to the king, loud and clear.

'Sire. Cenred's army is making to attack Camelot-'

There was a moment of silence, of hesitation, as the patrol braced himself for every possible reaction from the king as he delivered the rest of the news.

'- with Morgana's help.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter four here for you guys! I hope you like it, and chapter 5 shouldn't be too far off :**_  
_

_'__Sire. Cenred's army is making to attack Camelot-'_

_There was a moment of silence, of hesitation, as the patrol braced himself for every possible reaction from the king as he delivered the rest of the news._

_'- with Morgana's help.'_

Arthur froze. Glass halfway to his mouth. Jaw tense. Breath caught between mouth and lungs.

It seemed like time itself had stopped out of shock from the news. Nobody moved as they tried to process what this would mean for them. For Camelot.

And then his training from Uther kicked in. He acted on autopilot, following the procedures he needed, whilst not quite being aware of what he was doing.

Setting the goblet down on the table, he started to bark out orders.

'Sarah, take the Druid Elders back to their chambers. We will let you know what is happening in due course. Merlin, go fetch the councillors, we need to have an emergency war council immediately.' He glanced towards the panting patrol, who was hovering at the edge of the room, waiting for further instructions. 'Sir Bedivere, please check the other knights are making their way here. You should all be part of these discussions.'

'They should be here any minute sire, they were just sorting out the horses.'

Arthur nodded and began to pace in nervous anticipation of the arrival of all the necessary people for the meeting.

Merlin returned just as the serving girls were finishing clearing up their unfinished meal and the Druids were leaving. The councillors filed in behind him, sitting at their usual places around the table. Their expressions were grim, but their eyes held the spark of determination which set Camelot's forces out above the rest. The knights came clattering down the hall, chainmail muddy but feet clean - they wouldn't dare track mud into the council room. They too sat down around the table, waiting for Arthur's direction.

Merlin was making his way back towards the door when Arthur called out to him. He paused, unsure - he was still only a servant, surely he wouldn't be allowed to sit in on such an important meeting?

'Merlin, come here. I want you to be a part of these discussions.'

'Er...but sire, what use could I be? I'm only a servant.'

'And yet you lived in the forest for seven years. You know it better than anyone here, your knowledge could prove to be very valuable. Sit.'

Arthur gestured towards the only empty chair left, between the councillors and the knights. The warlock settled himself in it, uncomfortable with being so trapped between the two powerful groups. Luckily, he had a clear line of sight to Arthur and he tried to communicate his discomfort with eyes. It didn't have any effect.

Instead, Arthur met his gaze with an expression which could only mean one thing. He wanted permission to reveal Merlin's secret to the knights and councillors. The secret Merlin had successfully kept hidden for three whole years until duty forced him to expose his true talent. The last thing he wanted to do was tell everyone. Revealing himself to Arthur had been a terrifying accident. _This_would be more terrifying still. He knew he had no choice though - Arthur would be counting on using Merlin's magic against Morgana's. He sighed, trying to quell the fear which was making its home in his stomach. Closing his eyes and lowering his head, he gave permission for Arthur to guarantee his immediate lynching by the knights and councillors - whichever could reach him first. Arthur stood at the head of the table and proclaimed his almost certain death sentence.

'Before we start talking strategy and tactics, an announcement needs to be made. Merlin is here with us because he has a valuable skill we can use against Morgana and Cenred. It is controversial, yes, but I hope you will understand how useful it could be to us at this present time, and you do not let your previous prejudices cloud your judgement of him.'

Arthur paused, and sent a silent prayer up to whatever Gods might be listening that this would all go okay.

'Merlin is a powerful warlock'.

Silence for a split second.

'That's ridiculous! Merlin couldn't hurt a fly!'

'Why the hell is he still alive? Execute him!'

'I don't want him anywhere near me!'

'How do we know he's not plotting _with _Morgana?'

'STOP!' Arthur bellowed over the cacophony of shouts. 'I trust Merlin with my life - and he's saved it more than once. My trust should be enough for all of you. Does he _look_like he's plotting to kill any one of us? Like he wants to destroy Camelot?'

The councillors and knights paused and turned to look at Merlin sitting in the middle of him. He was a grown man, one who was far stronger than any who sat surrounding him, and yet he had never looked more like a little boy. His head was bowed, eyes squeezed shut to stop the tears leaking out, hands clenched tight in his trousers.

This was his worst nightmare. It was worse than every imagining he'd ever had of a revealing of his magic. Sure, he'd always assumed it would include his inevitable death, and he'd accepted that. But Arthur wouldn't dare try to kill him now, and yet Merlin still had to sit and endure this abuse. Now he was denied the sweet escape of death to protect him of their malicious attacks,.

'Merlin has my full trust. Besides, his magic is the most powerful weapon we have against Morgana and Cenred.' Arthur continued.

Leon, who was the only knight present who had been there at the long needed reunion of king and sorcerer, had stayed silent through this whole exchange. He spoke up now.

'King Arthur is right, I have seen Merlin in action and he's our only hope. He would have killed us long ago if he'd wanted to. He's certainly powerful enough. We need him, plain and simple, '

The other knights stared at him as he spoke, keeping their thoughts to themselves. Leon was essentially their second-in-command (after Arthur) and they respected his authority. The councillors studied him reproachfully – his reputation as a fierce warrior preceded him. They grumbled under their breaths, but said no more on the matter.

'Right. Now that's cleared up, will somebody please explain what we already know?' Arthur took control of the meeting again, knowing they would have a day, maybe less (almost certainly less) to come up with some way of stopping Morgana.

Bedivere relayed everything the patrol had told him – how Cenred had announced the alliance, how the border patrols had increased, how every able-bodied man was being recruited against their will. And how they had begun their march towards Camelot.

As Merlin listened to all of this, he tried to distance himself from the pain of the insults so he would actually be of some use. He was Emrys for god's sake! That _meant_ something! He cleared his mind and tried to focus on the matter at hand.

Various strategies and tactics were toyed with, the main theme was the same with all of them – keep Merlin's magic secret until the very last second. The longer he remained a surprise the better. No obvious magic was to be used before it had to be. They were sat round the table for hours, trying to find some way which would keep Camelot and it's people safe which would still allow them to find out what was happening with Cenred and Morgana. Finally, Merlin spoke up about an idea which had slowly been forming in his head as the talk dragged on.

'What if we just pretend everything's normal? We don't need to do anything different than any other time Cenred or morgana have attacked. And then I could just go use my magic to find out what's happening without them knowing. Or I could use it to manipulate their army, or them if needs be, and make it a truce, or make them leave or something.'

Merlin didn't want to say he was offering to aid Camelot shed the blood of its enemies, but he knew that in war, difficult decision had to be made, and he was too far in to say he wasn't a part of it.

Arthur glanced at Leon, checking what he thought of the suggestion which he considered to be quite reasonable.

'That sounds…very logical sire. Merlin's the only one who would actually know what was going on, magically speaking, and we know he's capable of defending himself, so we wouldn't need to send any knights with him.' Lean turned to Merlin. 'Are you sure you could pull off something like that without them noticing?'

'I don't see why not. I'm pretty good at hiding the fact I'm using magic.'

Merlin stared pointedly at Arthur, meeting his eyes. They kept their composure for a few seconds before Arthur cracked and smiled at Merlin's very obvious reference to the fact he'd used magic in Camelot for _years_ without anyone noticing.

Merlin knew that they'd managed to find a plan which the councillors and the knights would agree to, and he soon got involved in helping to create contingency plans for the various possibilities they might come across in the battle which was to come.

Arthur was stood staring out of his window, looking down into the courtyard below. It was filled with knights, their armour glinting in the sun, as they prepared to go to battle. He was worried about them, of course he was. He always worried about his men when they set out to battle.

Merlin entered the room, walking up to stand behind Arthur, peering down at the men in much the same way that Arthur was.

'They'll be okay y'know. I'm going to be up by the frontline before they even get there. I won't let them walk into a trap.'

'And how are you going to do that Merlin?' The niggling fears and doubts Arthur had leaked through into his voice.

'I have magic Arthur. More magic than you could comprehend. If I find a trap, I can undo it. I can stop time if I have to. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. I don't want any of these men to die any more than you do sire.'

Arthur nodded once. He knew he had to put his trust into the unknown and hope for the best. And yet, he knew Merlin was perfectly capable of protecting his men – he'd seen him use his powers with his own eyes, and knew he wasn't exaggerating. There was still one thing which bothered him though.

'Merlin.' He paused. 'Don't call me sire. You're not my inferior; you're far stronger than I could ever hope to be. We should act as equals.'

For a moment, there was silence. Arthur glanced up to check whether Merlin had even heard him. The man was staring back at him, mouth open, blinking. Then his face was lit up with one of his signature smiles, happy and open, as if there was nothing wrong with the world.

Merlin shifted his legs slightly, trying to stop them from going dead on him. He was perched high in the branches of a tree, the leaves hiding him from anyone who would have thought to look. He could see the black mass which was Morgana and Cenred's army approaching. Within a few minutes he would probably be able to make out the figures at the front of the pack. He knew he had to start probing before it was too late to do anything – if anything needed to be done.

He relaxed his eyes and took some deep breaths to centre himself. Allowing his magic to seep out from under his skin, he started to push it towards the army on the horizon. He could see, behind his closed eyelids, the terrain it was covering. He saw everything, every little life form, every spark of magic buried in the earth, every little bump in the ground. He soared with his magic, flying across the plains outside Camelot, over the treetops, until he reached the army which was fast arriving. It was _covered _with the golden glow of magic. He could see it was touching every soldier in their ranks. He tried to work out what it meant, but something was hiding its true nature. Only one person could possibly be doing that. Morgana. He tried to find her, opening his mind and letting the strongest source of magic call out to him, pulling him to her.

She wasn't at the front, leading the battle charge. No, she was further back, behind the first regiment, and she was with Cenred. In the midst of all the magic which surrounded the pair, Merlin could see the tiny patch of darkness where Cenred was. A complete absence of magic.

He peered closer, not quite happy with what he was seeing. As he stared down at the mass of soldiers, he began to understand what he was seeing. The magic he could see touching every man in the army wasn't their own. It was a web. A web made of magic, and it all lead back to Morgana, right at the heart of it. But there was more to it than that. He frowned in concentration, focusing all of his efforts on Morgana.

_There. _

Just a few tendrils of magic, reaching out and curling round Cenred at her side. They didn't reach into his heart, like with the soldiers. They were wrapped around his body, caging him in in a prison made of pure power. Cenred had no chance of getting out. He was entirely under the control of her.

His magic surged back into his body as he opened his eyes, ready to jump down from the tree and run back to the castle. He tumbled out from the branches, landing with a resounding 'thump' in a heap on the ground as his magic made the world spin before his eyes. He lay still, wincing as the scrapes on his arms and legs stung and his muscles cried out from the impact on the hard ground. And then he was up, stumbling and tripping as he sprinted back to where Arthur was waiting.

Merlin burst through the doors of the council room where Arthur was pacing anxiously. He knew the news he had wasn't anything like what they had been expecting as he explained the magical binding between Morgana and Cenred. Merlin was totally lost. He might have been the only person in the room who truly understood magic, but he was clueless when it came to military tactics.

One extremely rushed conversation later, Arthur and Merlin were riding full speed out to the top of the hill where Merlin had spied on Morgana and Cenred's army. Not that Merlin actually knew what Arthur's plan was, he just assumed he'd find out when they got there. Down below, Camelot's army was assembled, ready and waiting for the fight to begin. The strongest warriors they city had were stood at the front, charged with leading the onslaught. At such short notice, Arthur hadn't been able to call for the regular army Camelot used, but there were more than enough men living within the city who were willing to lay their lives down for their beloved king. He may have been aggressive, and made mistakes, but they had seen him grow from a heart broken, battle scarred boy into a loving, wise and patient man. A man who they would follow to the ends of the Earth.

They reached the crest of the hill. Morgana was so close now that Merlin didn't need to seek her out with his magic - he could simply use his eyes. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel it.

'So, um, Arthur? what exactly are we doing up here?'

'We're waiting.'

'Yeah, got that bit. What are we going to do when we're /done/ waiting? and what are we waiting for?'

'We're waiting for the battle to start. I'm not risking you being noticed. You need to stay as secret as possible. You're going to break the ties between Cenred and Morgana. Free him, and bring him back here to me.'

'Really? You want me to bring a sworn enemy of Camelot up onto this hilltop, with just the two of us, when you haven't even got any guards to help keep you safe'

'I've got you Merlin. Surely that's more than enough.'

'Um. Well. I'd still rather _not_ bring him up here. Can't I send him to the dungeons or something instead?'

Arthur rolled his eyes at the sorcerer beside him, before nodding. Admittedly, exposing himself to Cenred as he had planned to wasn't the best idea, but it was all he had. He much preferred Merlin's plan. Anyway, it wasn't like he could stop him from doing it anyway - one man and a sword against the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth didn't sum up to good odds in Arthur's eyes. He refrained from voicing a reply though, and pointed down into the valley.

It was time.

Merlin let himself see the magic before him, reaching out again as his eyes slid shut. He knew Arthur was anxiously flicking his eyes between him and the armies down below, which were just starting to fight.

The sounds of battle filled the air. War cries. Swords hitting shields. Arrows slicing through the air. Horses crying out as they fell. The yells of men as they were injured.

And still Merlin searched, past the noise and confusion, right into the heart of the fight. He knew he was close, he could see Cenred's cage in front of him. He just had to make sure Morgana didn't notice. How could he do that? Biting down on his lip, he extended his arm, praying that his plan would work. A simple exchange should work. Whisk Cenred away to Camelot's dungeons and replace him with an illusion, a glamour. He just had to hope Morgana wouldn't realise the difference amongst all the fighting.

Opening his eyes, he found Arthur staring at him as the last glimmers of gold left his irises. Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, Gaius-style, as if to say 'well, what are we still doing here?'. Arthur shook his head, as if coming out of a daze, and swung his horse round to head back to the castle, where Cenred was awaiting them.

Arthur, Merlin and a few palace guards who had been told to stay behind to keep the castle secure raced down the steps to the dungeon cells, anxious to make sure Cenred didn't escape now that they actually had him captured. The fight continued on down in the valley, a few strains of the noise floating up the castle. Arthur wrenched the cell door open, the rusty hinges crying out in protest with a painful screech. Cenred charged out at them, anger flaring in his eyes, as he saw who his mysterious captors were.

He never made it to the door. Merlin flashed his eyes instinctively, and Cenred found he couldn't move one more step. An invisible wall had been erected between him and Arthur. He pounded his fists against it, desperate to get out, but it was no use. Merlin's magic wasn't going anywhere.

Arthur looked him over, calmly assessing his prisoner. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. But then again, Morgana's aim had always been to bring about the falling of Camelot, and it was quite likely that the enchantment she had placed upon Cenred was designed to make him follow her will - and kill Arthur. He glanced back at Merlin, who was standing near to the door, obviously not comfortable with the idea of being in a cell with a man who had proved to be very dangerous before. Arthur didn't blame him. He wished he could show that kind of reluctance. Instead of dwelling on such things, he broke the silent impasse which had now been reached, Cenred having fallen back to simply glare through the invisible barrier.

'Merlin, has the binding been lifted?'

'No, not yet. Do you want me to do it now?'

Arthur nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes focused on Cenred as Merlin extended his arm once more.

Cenred visibly slumped, then he stumbled and fell to the ground altogether. He shook his head as he clambered back to his feet, blinking repeatedly, as if he was just waking up. He stared around in confusion, trying to work out where he was, and he tried to escape again, before discovering the barrier once again. He gave up quickly this time.

'Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, how the hell did I end up in Camelot's finest dungeons?'

'You mean you don't know? You did come here with an army after all Cenred. I would have thought the reason for you being in a dungeon would have been fairly obvious.' Arthur was totally relaxed, almost drawling his words.

'An army?' The alarm on Cenred's face was far too extreme to have been faked. 'What army?'

'The army you led here with Morgana. The army which is fighting right now Cenred, against my men.'

'I don't know of any army. Pendragon, listen to me! I didn't bring an army to Camelot. I'm not fool enough to attack Camelot.'

Arthur peered at him curiously. As far as he could tell, Cenred was telling the truth. Which was completely bizarre - he'd seen him in the army with his own eyes.

'And why would that be? Why would you be a fool to attack Camelot?'

'Because Camelot is far stronger now than she ever was before. I'd have no chance against your army Pendragon. I'm quite happy to keep to my side of the border if you do – I don't want war any more than you!'

It was honestly the first time Arthur had ever seen Cenred be anything like decent in his whole life. Uther had raised him to believe Cenred was an enemy as evil as the sorcerers in the kingdom – one who should be flattened the second he became a threat instead of an annoying hostile neighbour. He wasn't sure how to react to this new version of Cenred standing before him – and he wasn't at all sure if he could trust him.

'Merlin, with me outside. Now'

Arthur strode out of the cell, leaving the guards to ensure Cenred wouldn't try to follow him as Merlin took down his wall following his king. The sorcerer looked at Arthur expectantly, wondering what he wanted.

'Merlin, can you tell if Cenred is telling the truth?'

'I'm one step ahead of you. I was checking him the whole time we were in there – he didn't lie, not even once. He wasn't the one who wanted to attack; it was Morgana and whatever her spell did to him.'

'So that means Cenred's innocent in this whole thing? He was just being Morgana's puppet the whole time?'

'Looks like it.'

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement and made to go back into the cell, a plan forming in his mind.

'Cenred, you say you didn't bring an army here?' Cenred nodded. 'Then how about Morgana? Why is she here?'

'M-Morgana?' Cenred looked aghast. Fear bled into his eyes and his face paled as he shook his head. 'But I told her I wanted no part in her schemes. She came to me, trying to make me her ally against you, but like I already said, I have no intention of attacking you. She must have done something after I refused her…'

Cenred trailed off, confused by what had happened. Merlin stepped, figuring that he would be far better at explaining Cenred's enchantment than Arthur.

'You came to Camelot leading an army with Morgana. I went to check if you were going to use magic against Camelot and saw that she had bound you to her will – and then I brought you back here so we could find out what was happening. From what I could see, Morgana preyed on your underlying resentment towards Camelot and manipulated it with magic to make it so you would agree to a joint attack on Camelot. She made your mind dormant, so you basically became her puppet.'

Merlin paused, but he wasn't finished yet. He turned to Arthur and continued.

'Arthur, this whole thing is Morgana's doing, Cenred had no part in it. But maybe we can find a common enemy here. We don't want Morgana here anymore than Cenred wants to harm Camelot, and I'm sure he'd much rather just get home and leave us alone, just like normal. So perhaps it would be possible for you two to join forces and then everything can be the way it was before?'

Merlin grew more and more unsure of himself as his speech went on, but he hoped that both Arthur and Cenred would see the benefits of an alliance, even if it was only going to be for the purposes of getting rid of Morgana. He watched as the two men exchanged glances, measuring one another up, trying to decide if it was worth putting their differences aside for a bit. So they could both be free of Morgana's threat. So their people could be free.

They shook hands.


	5. Chapter 5

_They shook hands._

'Let the play begin. Act one. Perfectly scripted' thought Merlin wryly. 'Showtime.'

The crescendo of the noise of battle swamped them as they began their slow, humiliating procession through the crowds of soldiers. A few select men of Cenred's army surrounded the horse-drawn cart as it made its way through. Arthur sat, chains clinking from the rocking motion of the horses, in the cage he'd been locked in. His head was bowed in shame. He knew this was all part of the plan, that he had no reason to be ashamed, but he could still feel the heat rising in his cheeks as his soldiers paused in their fights to stare at their king, reduced to the status of an animal. Cenred's men jeered at him as he passed, tossing out insults and jibes to further add to the humiliation he was experiencing.

He could see Camelot's men were faltering, unsure, looking to their defeated leader for orders. None came. Would it be better to surrender now or fight with the honour Camelot deserved? Merlin, invisible, cloaked by his magic, crouched down next to Arthur's ear and whispered into it.

'Say something to them. They need to keep fighting or Morgana will have Cenred's men slaughter every single one of the knights.'

Arthur nearly gave himself away by reacting too obviously to Merlin's advice, but he caught himself just in time. Instead, he raised his head slowly, and gazed around him at Camelot's knights. They stared back, expectant, hesitant.

'Are you not knights of Camelot? Keep fighting! You fight for the people, not for me.'

He tensed his jaw, hoping his words would work, and one by one the soldiers saluted him as he passed by. Then they took their relaxing enemies by surprise.

The shameful procession continued.

The journey to find Morgana was a slow, agonising one. Wherever they passed through, the fighting stopped, just until Arthur told them to press on. He hated his men seeing him like this, weakened and defeated, completely at the mercy of Cenred, his sworn enemy. It wasn't right for him to subjugate himself to another's will in such a way. The only comfort Arthur could draw from the whole situation was the fact it was all fake. It _felt _real but it was fake. It was just part of the plan. Just part of the plan. He repeated it over and over in his head, a silent mantra.

It seemed like it had taken an age to reach Morgana's position. She was heavily guarded, standing a little way away from the main concentration of the fighting. Her steely gaze surveyed the destruction the troops were causing with a grim satisfaction. Her back curls danced in the cold wind, and her dress fluttered around her ankles as she watched their approach.

Cenred signalled his guards to stop and the cage shuddered to a halt as he stepped forward to greet the sorceress. He bowed his head respectfully to her as she welcomed him.

Merlin watched them from his refuge in the cage, hidden from sight by his magic. 'And now for act two' he thought, hoping Cenred would keep his side of the deal.

A few minutes later, Morgana and Cenred emerged from the circle of guards to come inspect the cage. Merlin's hand clenched tightly around Excalibur. He was keeping it with him, hidden, so the king wasn't completely defenceless if their poor situation became any worse. Morgana ran her hand along the bars between her and her brother, meeting his eye with a steady gaze. No emotion showed on her face, not even a tiny flicker of recognition lit up her eyes.

She whipped her head round to glare accusingly at Cenred, and she barked out her complaint.

'You expect me to deal with Arthur in a battlefield? And how, exactly, is that fitting for the queen of Camelot?'

She raised her eyebrow at him, and he stumbled over his answer, but she cut him off.

'Well, it seems I'll have to take this business to somewhere rather more comfortable.'

With that, she raised her hands as she began her incantation, her black cloak swirling around her. Shocked, Merlin whispered into Arthur's ear to close his eyes and hold onto the bars of the cage. Tightly.

When Arthur next opened his eyes, he thought he might throw up. He fell back against the bars of his prison, weak with dizziness. All he remembered was a lot of wind, and shaking, and been thrown every which way as he clung on for dear life, tangling up with Merlin as they were both thrown off balance. And now he opened his eyes, not to the carnage of a bloody battlefield, but to the imposing grey stone of Cenred's throne room.

This day was getting far too weird for him. First it turned out Merlin was Emrys, then he'd made peace with the Druids, he'd planned for battle all through the night, running on just a couple snatched hours of sleep, he'd allied himself with Cenred, and now he'd been magically transported to Essetir.

Merlin clambered off him as quietly as he could, then he cast a small glamour to stop Morgana from seeing him unlock the cage. He kept himself cloaked with invisibility as he scurried to the corner of the room, leaving Excalibur by Arthur's feet. If he was gonna be needed, he needed to be away from Arthur - he couldn't risk Morgana hurting Arthur in an attempt to get at him.

Morgana circled the cage in the centre of the room, running her fingers along the bars as she glowered down at her brother. She whispered an enchantment and the bars glowed red, before fading back to their steel grey. She smiled as she surveyed her work.

'Now that I've made sure you won't be making any escape attempts whilst here, we can talk. Cenred did well in capturing you. Finally we can have a conversation where you are the powerless one, and I am victorious. Camelot will be mine, _little brother_.'

Arthur stared up at her, proud even in his humiliation. His jaw was set, and his eyes were steely as they levelled with Morgana.

'Stick to the plan, Arthur' he reminded himself, before allowing himself to reply to her.

'I will surrender to you Morgana. I don't wish to fight any longer. I only have one request.'

She raised her eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by how easily Arthur had given up.

'I will surrender completely to you, and you can do whatever you wish to me, but only if you do not take my people into slavery.'

Arthur forced himself to hold his sister's gaze, feeling sick to the stomach as he gave away his kingdom. His mantra from earlier echoed round his head - 'Just part of the plan. Just part of the plan'.

Morgana cocked her head to one side, considering Arthur's offer. The throne, the kingdom, and Arthur handed to her on a plate. All she had to do was promise not to enslave Camelot and, well, promises were only words, and words were very easily broken. A slow smile stretched across her face.

Merlin, hidden in the corner, saw Cenred's fingers flatten against his thigh and tap. Once. Twice. Thrice.

'And finally act three.' Merlin braced himself. All hell was about to break loose. He readied the spell under his breath, prepared to launch it at the vital moment.

Cenred nodded.

Merlin let his invisibility fall from his body like a cloth and stepped into view.

Morgana whipped round, eyes wide with surprise and confusion.

Just what Merlin needed.

On the battle field, the sounds of battle rose into the air, as men on both sides attacked each other. The Camelot guards were faring better than the militia who had been raised last minute before Morgana's army had laid siege to the land. They swung their swords, their axes, their quaterstaffs, lashing out at anything which didn't bear the Camelot red. Morgana's men were putting up a good fight, forcing themselves way past the point of exhaustion, thanks to the witch's spell. Men fell to wounds and fear on every side, lying down to die in the mud at their feet as the battle raged on.

Ignoring the beginnings of Morgana's outraged spellcasting, Merlin shattered Arthur's cage in a split second, the steel bars clattering on the floor and echoing throughout the stone room. The king seized Excalibur from the floor and swung it into position, ready to face off any physical attack Morgana might choose to throw his way. He knew it probably wouldn't be much use, now they weren't in the middle of a battlefield, but the familiar weight of steel in his hand comforted him all the same.

Morgana was approaching Merlin, her face contorted in pure anger, as she hissed out words from the Old Religion. She flung her hand out towards him, twisting her fingers as her spell took hold.

Cenred realised he was about to be caught up in the middle of a duel, a duel between the two most powerful sorcerers he had ever seen, and he wasn't proud to admit it, but he felt his knees go weak with fear. He backed away as slowly as possible; hoping not to draw attention to himself as he pressed himself flat against the wall, searching for the stone which would let him escape from the bloodbath he feared was going to destroy his throneroom.

Merlin clawed frantically at his neck, where invisible fingers were choking him, starving him of air. He could feel himself growing weaker, fainter with every second that passed. His mind was encased in a fog of panic, no spell would come to him, no way out of this torture.

Arthur looked on as his loyal manservant succumbed to an invisible enemy, as he fell to his knees, as he struggled piteously. The king felt his anger boil low in his stomach, rising with every step her took towards his sister. He raised Excalibur, ready to distract her or her kill her, he didn't know which. She turned to face him and directed her spell towards him instead, unwittingly releasing Merlin from its hold.

Oxygen rushed back into Merlin's lungs in a tidal wave, and he sucked in heaving breaths as he watched his king suffer the same fate he had just moments ago. Now his mind was cleared from panic, the solution was obvious to him and he cast it with no hesitation.

Arthur fell to his knees in shock as his airways cleared and air came flooding back into his lungs. He saw Merlin across the room, his jaw set and anger blazing in those magnificent golden eyes of his. They were alight with power.

Merlin's legs shook as he stepped towards Morgana, and he hoped his fear didn't show as he threatened her with his outstretched hand. She returned the gesture and they circled one another slowly. They shot spells at each other, and Arthur stared as he saw their reflex actions deflect each others attacks, or turn them back against their opponent. The air was fuelled with magic and it crackled and sizzled as the two attacked each other over and over and over again, with neither one of them even managing to touch the other with their spells.

And then, before he could understand what was happening, Arthur found himself held against the wall by hands he couldn't see, as Excalibur lay on the floor out of reach.

Merlin stared at him, and it was as if everything was in slow-motion as his servant extended his hand to free him.

But he didn't see Morgana flash her eyes at the sword.

And he didn't realise what she was about to do until it was too late.

Merlin _knew, _as Morgana lifted the sword to thrust it into Arthur's chest, he knew he wouldn't get there in time. The room was too big, his legs were too clumsy. So he just reacted, as every cell in his body cried out in despair. His magic flared, fuelled by desperation and anger, fuelled with the need to keep Arthur, _his _Arthur safe.

Excalibur clattered to ground. The sound echoed in the stone room.

Merlin spun round, and what he saw sickened him.

.

.

.

Arthur fell to his knees and stared across the room.

.

.

.

Merlin gagged as he saw what he'd done, the realisation filtering through his mind like poison.

A terrible buzzing filled his head, blocking his vision and hearing. Everything was blind panic and horror and shock and fear and _buzzing. _The thought of Arthur's reaction was unbearable.

So Merlin did the only thing he could think of, the instinct which had kept him alive for so many years.

He ran.

And everything was buzzing.

The soldiers paused in their fighting as they saw who was walking towards them. Neither side struck a blow as Arthur passed. One side was shocked into defeat and the other was shocked into a respectful silence. The quiet spread through the battlefield like a ghost.

Arthur concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. He couldn't allow his mind to dwell on anything else. He knew it would cripple him.

Merlin had run away from him, leaving Arthur alone.

Leaving Arthur to carry his dead sister's body back to Camelot.


	6. Chapter 6

_Merlin had run away from him, leaving Arthur alone. _

_Leaving Arthur to carry his dead sister's body back to Camelot. _

Merlin had no idea how long he ran for, how long his feet pounded the ground, how long the buzzing in his head chased him.

All he knew was that he wanted to get _away._ He didn't care where, as long as it was anywhere other than that damned throne room in Essetir.

He could think of nothing else, his whole mind was filled with terrible, sickening image of Morgana's broken body lying across the room from him. The body _he'd _created.

He'd used his magic for some god awful things over the years, trying to keep Arthur safe, but never anything like this. He'd never used his magic to _kill_ before. That was something he thought he'd never do.

He hung his head in shame and the tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees in the middle of an unknown forest.

(2 days later)

Arthur stood in silence beside his sister's tomb. He was alone in the crypt, filled with the bodies of his long dead ancestors, and one day his own would join them. And oh, how he wished it was that day, right that second. He had buried his father, and now he was expected to bury his sister as well.

It had never mattered to him that Morgana hadn't shared his mother. When he had been younger, he had hated the magic in her, and the things she did with that magic, but never her. He had never hated Morgana herself. And despite everything she had done, all the suffering and death and destruction and pain she had caused, she was still a Pendragon. She still deserved a proper burial in Camelot, her home.

Merlin stared at his surroundings. He had thought he had gotten himself lost in an unfamiliar forest, but he saw now that he knew this forest very well.

The buzzing had faded somewhat, still tearing at his conscience, but now he could think over it.

He clambered to his feet and strode through the undergrowth, searching for that one place he had called home for seven long years. His father's cave.

He made his way inside, pleasantly surprised to see it was almost exactly how he had left it. Except for one thing. A small altar had been set up, right in the centre of the room, well-cared for, and surrounding it were offerings. Fruit, and dried meat, and wood carvings, and letters of prayer written by those who had visited.

Merlin stared in wonder as the significance of the altar slowly clicked into place. Urias had said the Druids often travelled to places of power, that Ballinor's cave had been one of them. And once Merlin wasn't there to ward them away, to keep them safe, they had flocked there, all of them eager to see where Emrys had lived. It was a pilgrimage.

Merlin reached out and picked up one of the notes that had been left by the altar.

'_Emrys, I'm just a child, and I know you won't care about me, and maybe you'll never even see this, but if you do I hope it makes you smile. I want to be like you when I grow up, big and strong and powerful. My mum says there's more to life than being big and strong, I'm not so sure I believe her. Will you help me be like you?_'

It was signed by a Druid boy in shaky handwriting.

Merlin picked up another.

_'Emrys, we have waited many years for you to become the man the legends speak of. Maybe now you can save us from King Arthur, and the tyrant he has become. We send our wishes for luck with you' _

Merlin held his head in his hands. How could these people have so much faith in him? He wasn't the man they spoke of in the legends, not when he had killed Morgana. Not when he had spilled precious blood. He wasn't who they thought he was.

There were footsteps approaching the cave, someone coming to visit the altar perhaps? Merlin made himself invisible where he sat, watching the visitor in silence.

It was a young woman, with ratty clothes and dirty brown hair. She looked as if she'd travelled for many days to find the cave, and she knelt down in front of the altar, lighting one of the candles which stood upon it. She was whispering some words of prayer under her breath as she wrote upon a slip of paper. Five words.

She laid the paper under the candle, in the centre of the altar, and smiled sadly back at it as she walked out.

Merlin lifted up the candle and took the paper the Druid girl had left. He read it, and knew what he had to do. The buzzing had faded away to a tiny hum.

It read _'Emrys, we believe in you' _

(Days later)

There was a knock on the door of the throne room, and Arthur waved the knight in. His face was solemn, his brow brooding under the burden his crown represented.

'Sire, you are requested on the battlements. There is a visitor, and he will only be seen there.'

Arthur regarded the knight suspiciously, but he followed him outside to the battlements anyway, his hand on the hilt of Excalibur in his belt.

He recognised the man awaiting him immediately. There was no mistaking that scruffy black hair, or that frayed neckerchief.

Merlin turned round to greet him, his expression neutral and guarded.

'Sire, I - I came to apologise. I shouldn't have run away. But I'm back now, and-'

He was cut off as Arthur enveloped him in a hug, tight and comforting.

'Shut up you idiot. I thought I'd lost you too.'

'You, you don't blame me?'

'No Merlin. We all do things we regret in battle. I understand why you did it, and I understand why you ran. Now, let's say no more of it. We've got some laws to pass.'

(Months later)

They were back on the battlements, looking out over the lands of Camelot.

Arthur smiled, proud of what he had accomplished. The laws banning magic had, with Merlin's help, been fully repealed.

Magic was free in Camelot once more.

'You know Merlin,' Arthur said, 'I really think this is the start of something good for Camelot. I have a kingdom any man would be proud of, a kingdom I am proud to rule over. You don't have to stay here, if you don't want Merlin. You're free to go and do whatever you want with your life.'

Merlin smiled to himself, thinking of the legends.

'I'm staying right here sire. My place is by your side.'

**(****That's it folks! I've finally finished :) I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and thank you for reading it at all! Also, I'd like to thank my beta Cal, without whom this fic would probably never have been finished :) )**


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